Kevin O'Sullivan's column

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BROWN NOSE DAY.. HOORAY!
Kevin O'Sullivan 16/03/2008

Friday night, 11pm... "It's the big one!" The grumble in the jungle. The moment we've all been waiting for. For four flaming hours! Now, at long last, it's the clash of the chat-show titans. No holds barred as TV's six-million-quid-a-year cheeky chappy Jonathan Ross vows to slug it out with his veteran rival Sir Michael Parkinson. The gloves are off for a gripping session of straight talking between two heavy hitters who have never seen eye to eye. From the start it's clear this is going to be vicious.

"He is the greatest talk show host this country has ever seen," oils Wossy. "And, I maintain, will ever produce." Ooh, nasty! On comes Parky and during a tedious hour of world-class arse-crawling, it becomes sadly apparent these poor guys are both suffering from some sort of illness. They just can't stop brownnosing. "You really love sport," slithers forelock-touching Ross as his boring old guest drones on about the wonderfulness of everyone he's ever met.

"David Beckham's a great role model," drools Sir Mike. Not perhaps for faithful husbands. George Best "was a remarkable man". Nelson Mandela "is one of the most remarkable men of all time". Muhammad Ali "was an extraordinary human being". Suddenly, overcome with obsequiousness, Ross yells: "Parky for Prime Minister!" The words overpaid, grovelling and creep spring to mind.

But, hey, it's all in a great cause. Sport Relief - yet another Beeb guilt-trip. Obviously, no one's going to knock helping needy kids. But does seven hours of begging-bowl telly add up to brilliant entertainment? Does it hell! And, while the public digs deep to raise almost as much as Ross's BBC pay deal, there's an uncomfortable feeling that our favourite bighearted stars - not to mention a few major companies - just happen to be landing some pretty decent free PR.

By a remarkable coincidence, Leona Lewis's emotional trip to Africa hits the screen just as her new single is released. Now she's bursting into tears. Don't worry Leona - maybe you'll win a Brit next year. And thanks to Westlife for selflessly singing their latest soppy ditty It's Us Against The World - on sale now. You can't buy publicity like this. The state broadcaster has to donate it. Meanwhile, would you believe it, only two weeks before the real Apprentice returns, here's a special charity version starring Sir Alan Sugar and 10 little-known Z-listers. "Each has a celebrity name to trade on," says the announcer. But not necessarily their own, as Cheeky Boy Lembit Opik (crazy name - boring guy) would be the first to admit.

Hatred in the men's team as trained observer Kelvin MacKenzie shrewdly points out that obscure nobody Hardeep "you're fired" Singh Kohli is not Adolf Hitler. How to spot the difference... the Fuhrer never wore a lime green turban. Back to Friday night's wipeout and the undisputed queen of TV tat Davina McCall is urging everyone to run in "Sainsbury's" Sport Relief Mile. "I'm doing six miles in London," she bellows. "So if you fancy seeing me sweat in some really odd places please come down."

That should guarantee a huge turnout.

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Ahh, quality bile!